Whoa, was that supposed to be normal? Alarms were going off, and the next thing she expected was some dudes coming in with heavy artillery to give her a hard time. This was pretty unusual, and it left Ramona on alert. In a way, she half-expected this to be some point in the story when there was a time limit keeping her on a set restriction. If she didn't beat the clock, she'd be screwed—and that seemed like a likely scenario. But though she idly waved her hand over her head curiously, she didn't find anything there; there was no dissipating clock telling her that if she didn't move fast enough to get out of this joint, she was going to blow up. Or that she had to find the box before the time ran out. Or—well, that was enough scenarios!

But whatever it was, she didn't feel terribly at ease about it. Sure, she wasn't freaking out, palms sweaty with uncertainty as she tried to figure out her next step, but she wasn't exactly raving about this course of events. No one mentioned alarms going off and codes. Was there a code purple, she wondered? Or a code pink? Maybe the overly-ridiculously-sweet-like-candy-corn girl—and man, it'd been a long time since she had some of that, damn Toronto and its lack of addictive orange, yellow, and white colored sweets—just meant this. Maybe this was normal!

But hey, she had to grant it something. It definitely set the "night is different than daytime" mood. There was the air of intensity and the feeling that things were bad. Whoever was in charge of this place definitely knew how to mess with people's heads. It felt like she stepped into ... what was actually a little like her Saturday afternoons recently, minus the ridiculous themed parties. Though Ramona really didn't put it past Julie Powers to decide on a pseudo-militaristic-mental-hospital theme. She just didn't think her apartment could take the redecorating.

Either way, she had done enough dawdling thinking about it. Ramona snatched up the flashlight from the place she was told it was held at, and started out. First off, she had to test her strength, and then—oh, she glanced over at her desk. Well, it wasn't long and ... people could read a lot of Freud into her choice of weapons, but it looked heavy enough. Ramona set the flashlight back down on her bed and moved over to the desk. She stood in front of it curiously before she counted to three and then bent down to pick it up. In fact, it moved too easily, and her eyebrows knit together. Ramona lifted it up over her head, put more weight on one arm than the other, and still—it was fine.

Ramona carelessly dropped the desk back down—well, it wasn't like she had any attachment to it—and she found herself surprised it didn't ... receive any damage. But then again, she figured this place wasn't going to bring people there against their will and then furnish them with things from IKEA. That was way too easy to break. It was just too bad she couldn't drag a desk around with her. That would look formidable if it wasn't going to fall apart, but she didn't want to have a hard time getting through doors.

So, Ramona snatched up her flashlight eagerly and set out. If they were limiting her, maybe they just got rid of subspace and that was that. She could handle that.

[to here]

[from here]

Just like last night, Vino turned the bend to find that he was first in the main hallway again. He couldn't decide if he preferred it or not. Patience wasn't his favorite virtue, but he supposed he'd have to wait. The two meeting places he would have to be at were right next to each other, right? So that was fine. If he had to wait a while, perhaps he could do some hunting while he was at it.

Vino waited, but tonight, his patience was wearing thinner at a faster rate. He didn't settle on leaning against a wall to wait. He paced, swinging the railing all the while. It was still bloodied from the night before. In his excitement, he'd quite forgotten his intention of stopping by a restroom and cleaning the thing off. Obviously, there were more important things he could be doing. In his mind, there was no time for anything else.

He was impatient. I wanted to be somewhere, he wanted to see everything, he wanted to explore, to experience, to hunt, to destroy--

But all in good time. Tonight was his night. Every night was his night. He owned all this. All of it. It would be fine if he bode his time. He had all the time in the world. He controlled it.

The shadows whispered and scratched. And Vino listened and watched. But stayed where he was for the time being. For the time being.

[Neku]

Guy's head was still spinning from finding out that his friend was back once again. He realized that he'd done a good job of keeping his cool while explaining everything to Luke, mainly because nothing would have been solved if both of them had been reeling, but...

What exactly was he going to do now? Tear and Natalia being excluded from the basement group was one thing, but Guy felt a duty to Luke that he was going to have a difficult time divorcing himself from. He realized he wasn't really Luke's servant anymore (Luke had said so himself), but with how often Luke had left this place only to return again, how could he not feel as if he needed to keep an eye on him?

Granted, it was something that they could split up among their whole group. Luke wasn't going to like the idea of being babysat, but Guy didn't know if he was comfortable with anything else. Tear and Natalia could stick with him when he headed off with Claude and Anise, but getting all of that information transmitted in the small time left before night came seemed impossible. In any case, if he made it sound more subtle -- like they were all just taking care to stick together -- then Luke would probably accept it.

The soldiers forced them apart when lunch ended, however, meaning that Guy's only option was to put up a bulletin notice and hope that things worked themselves out that way. He was pretty sure Claude still had an extra sword for Luke, so that was one weight off of his shoulders at the least. But he really didn't want Luke going off on his own at night, so any chance of preventing that was his priority.

Once a note had been posted, Guy finally agreed to go into the Game Room with most of the patients. He realized he had the ability to wander elsewhere, but it seemed pointless when there were barely any others who had the same privileges. Still, he couldn't help thinking of Sai; he still needed to track the man down at some point.

Upon entering the room and finding that it was still relatively empty, Guy started to wander in search of anything interesting to play. He could always check out one of those portable game systems again.

[For Edgar.]

By the time lunch rolled around, things still weren't getting any better. The voices hadn't gone away; instead, Firo was pretty sure they were getting more frequent. Ennis had been silent since last night, but Czes's voice had been an insistent buzz in his ear all morning.

He'd spent the morning alone, trying to ignore any cutting remarks from a boy who wasn't there as he puzzled through things. Were the drugs responsible after all? A note on the bulletin had confirmed that someone else who'd been forced into the trial had been hearing things too, but Hakkai...

The call for lunch had been welcome; the day was barely half over, and Firo was already feeling exhausted. At this rate, maybe it would be best to just wait it out instead of trying to figure out what was causing it. If it was the drug, it should wear off after a while.

He accepted his gruel quietly, looking it over as he headed across the cafeteria—Hakkai had said it looked spoiled, but he couldn't tell any difference from what they'd served morning, noon, and night every day. Maybe the man was still seeing things after all, or maybe he was the one seeing things. It could have been bad and only looked alright. Or maybe it was just the color after all...

As took a seat, a new voice called out to him: "There's no point in you trying to figure it out, Firo. You're a real idiot, you know?"

Firo scowled. "I don't want to hear that from you, Berga," he growled under his breath.

[For Peter Petrelli ;_;]

Billy surfaced into wakefulness. Sleep receded like an inky tide, and it didn't say anything to him before it was gone. His dreams had been nothing but the sensation of water, rocking him restlessly in his bottle. There seemed to be an ocean beyond his confines, but he couldn't see it and couldn't reach it. He pawed at the glass, but any progress he'd made had been washed out of his memory.

He tried not to be disturbed by the deja vu, but it wasn't the sort of thing one was in full control of. And yet, his heart didn't race. His nose didn't bleed. His hands were shaking, but with a different tenor than the last time he had concentrated on them. Everything felt still, and whole, and maybe not right, but for the first time in weeks Billy breathed without trouble. There was no weight of a terrified, dying universe crawling over his shoulders and clamoring for attention. He laid there in bed for a long time. Victory. Not his victory, but someone else's, and that was good enough. He hadn't needed to be the one who saved it, he was just doing what he had to. Truthfully, he was glad to have not seen it. There was a lot Billy wished he hadn't seen.

He couldn't bring himself to react much to the fact that he was still here. Billy glanced around a couple times, vision blurred without his glasses, but saw that the room was basically the same. This time lit up, of course, although it didn't help him to gather many precise details. He would have almost said his aimless adventure with Captain Kirk during the night had been a dream, but it was all wrong, thematically speaking. Maybe if Kirk had been a squid dressed in gold lamé, he'd believe it. It really didn't matter what his dreams meant anymore, though.

( Kraken spoiler cut for those who mentioned wanting to read it. )

Any further thoughts were interrupted by a soldier he hadn't noticed entering.

"Get dressed."

Billy stared at the military blues from the night before. Clean and fresh, no sign of any blood, not that he'd been the one injured. There was even a little hat that he had missed the night before. He was going to look ridiculous, he could feel it.

"I think you'll probably find I'm not actually registered here," he tried to tell the guard, who was not impressed by Billy's claim. The soldier wasn't even moved by Billy pointing out that the dog tags didn't have his name on them. (Frederick Aldrich? An eerie coincidence that made Billy quietly comply with demands for a few minutes.) The man spoke in nothing but orders, which were easy to follow when you weren't particularly attached to any final aim. Billy was listless. Flotsam and jetsam. Getting back to London was an eventual goal, but he'd put in a call to someone later, and go back to whatever. His life, he supposed. He was already exasperated by the taciturn and far too serious military man. Once upon a time he would have wanted to gain purchase with him through inoffensive smiles and falsely friendly comments. Today, he could only give the man a tired look and equally brusque answers that didn't hide his irritation. Did he really look young enough to be pressed into a military academy?

He was led down cleaner versions of the hallways he had seen the night before, and into a large cafeteria, basically devoid of anyone beside himself and the assembled guards. Billy uncomfortably found a seat, and took a few seconds to just hide his face in his hands and block everything else out. The tray he had been given was immediately forgotten, just to the side of him, and he blamed his turning stomach on the adrenaline that was still working its way out of his system. It was so fantastically quiet in the large room, he wanted to drown in it. He only peered through his fingers when someone else in powder blue passed close to his table.

[For Castiel.]

[from here]

It was really dark.

It had been a long time since Anise last tried to navigate the halls without a flashlight, but with both her hands full, there was no way she could carry one. She had her handy little mini flashlight tucked away in her coat pocket so she could use it after dropping off the pipe.

It looked like the night was going to start on a positive note, but Anise couldn't help but wonder about that weird announcement from earlier. The military was probably up to something really shady. Anise just hoped they didn't put anything weird in her food again.

[to here]

Well, that was interesting; being moved to a new room and injected with a Mystery Drug, all in one confusing moment. 'Interesting' being a blanket term for annoying and nerve-racking and ridiculous. It was all making her start to feel very Winona Ryder a la Girl, Interrupted. That was based on a true story, right? Kind of? Ugh. Though if she were being honest, being dosed was the first event that really, actually made this place feel like the mental institution she was being told it was. Minus being visited by not-Columbus. That was certainly brain-fuzz worthy, even with the warning.

Either way, her arm itched, and maybe that was just in her head, but she couldn't stop scratching at it. If she got some kind of rash from this crap, she was going to be livid.

Dinner wasn't so bad - at least her new roommate seemed normal, kinda - but she rolled off her bed and headed out as soon as the doors unlocked, map tucked into the side of her boot and her flashlight in hand. Oh yeah, so ready to take on the great outdoors. Because tonight she would be getting herself a bat. Monsters beware. Now that she was sure she finally had a grasp on where the hell she was going around here, she was determined to get outside and get armed.

The dinner announcement came as something utterly unexpected. Rather than Harrington's excited tones, the calm accented voice of the General drifted through the intercom speakers.

"Code 1-8. I repeat: Code 1-8. All personnel are to report to your stations. No exceptions."

The intercom clicked off, leaving no explanation behind. The staff appeared to take the words to heart, however, as evident by their thin-lipped faces and snappy tones to the slower patients. They were in an obvious hurry to get everyone back to their rooms.

For what cause, they refused to divulged.

[ Those participating in the forced drug trials, please ensure to read this lounge post before posting to dinner. Thanks! ]

Although it had been good to see his mom again, Claude entered the cafeteria with a dark expression on his face. He was glad she felt comfortable enough with him to share her experiences from last night, but that didn't make him any less angry at the military for using her to do their dirty work. Why couldn't those bastards clean up their own messes? Surely they had the resources for it.

Were they really going to have to fight someone else's war now?

His head buzzed with those sorts of questions as he moved through the room. Even so, with the help of his escort, Claude assembled a tray with a rather large hamburger, the appropriate condiments, and a cup of water. The cafeteria was still relatively empty, save for the soldiers on duty, so he took very little time in the line. It was probably just as well. He'd been so engrossed in his conversation with Rita during breakfast that he hadn't eaten much.

After finding an empty seat, Claude gingerly placed his tray and journal onto the table and sat down. As he lifted up his burger with his good hand, Claude couldn't help but think of Ashton for a moment. Where was he? He'd disappeared so long ago, and yet part of him worried the military had used him for something too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he took a bite and tried to focus on getting a decent meal in his stomach.

[For Guy!]

Anise woke up feeling lucky to be alive. She still felt a bit waterlogged, even though her skin, hair, and clothes were completely dry. During last night's adventures, she'd swallowed a lot of water, and it still felt heavy and disgusting in her stomach. Her arms and legs were tired from treading water. Lying still in her bed, she still kind of felt like she was floating and bobbing in the water.

But she was alive.

Knowing how close she came to death last night, and remembering the lengths her friends had gone to in order to save her, there was no way Anise could let a little discomfort get her down. She had to be at her best today so she wouldn't seem ungrateful to Guy and Claude. On that note, she had to remember to thank them properly, now that she was better able to express herself.

While getting ready, Anise was surprised to actually run into Claude that morning. He came to her room asking for the notebook he stored there (or maybe it was an excuse to see her cute face again), so Anise happily located it and handed it over. She was pretty tired, but the big smile she gave him was genuine. Who wouldn't be happy to see her savior so soon after a dramatic rescue?

After he left, Anise finished re-tying her pigtails into a low position so the military beret would fit on her head, and then she was ready! Even though her stomach wasn't feeling that great, she figured sitting down to a decent meal would help normalize it. And luckily for her, she was among the few who had the privilege of eating such a meal. Anise filled a plate with french toast topped with syrup and fruit, accompanied by small portions of each of the available side dishes.

It looked like she was early, which meant there weren't a lot of people around. That was okay, though. Anise could get a good head start on her meal before any company came around. She sat down at a table by herself and started on her sausage first.

[for Tolten!]

Dawn broke with the hustle and bustle of staff, uniformed men and women moving to and fro to wake patients from their slumber. Those who managed to slip through their watchful eyes and gain an extra minute or two of shuteye were soon rudely awakened by a rather enthusiastic man with a Western accent.

"Riiiise and shine, Landel's Institute!" the man chirped over the intercom. The tone was almost disgustingly cheerful. "Major Harrington here with your welcome call! All soldiers are to report to the cafeteria for their morning meal. We ask that you be prompt! Loiterers may find themselves without food for the day.

"Also," he continued, the word an afterthought, "we will be offering several opportunities for rewards later in the day. Keep your eye on the bulletin board if you're interested."

The intercom clicked off.

[ As a reminder, Day 58 is a normal military day. NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS are free to reply to this with their introduction post. Please have your character wake up in a random room if we have not yet assigned them. Thank you! ]